


you spoke like broken thunder

by dasseinhundin



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Complete, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Humor, Oneshot, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasseinhundin/pseuds/dasseinhundin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She doesn't look like the type to startle easily, but she also looks like the type to have a surprisingly mean left hook, and luck isn't really his thing. Curiosity, however, is an entirely different story." [oneshot, pre-series, first meeting fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you spoke like broken thunder

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens when I finally try to write Ladynoir. Huge thank you to my dear dancelordzuko on tumblr for being my wonderful beta and just an all-around darling. Written to "Thunder Clatter" by Wild Cub.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He runs beneath the dazzling glimmer of the Parisian lights, with the sting of early winter air burning his cheeks and the wind singing in his ears. He jumps from one rooftop to the next, soaring and sprinting and falling and _feeling_ as the coil of excitement springs in his stomach with every leap and bound. It is a first for him, to feel such an unbridled sense of freedom, and a laugh rips from his throat as tears well in his eyes.

This is what it's like to be _free_.

For the first time in years he only feels the weight of gravity press upon him, pulling him down from the dizzying highs and lacing his blood with lightning. Leaping across stretches of empty, shadowed alleyways takes no preparation, and his muscles are already familiar with the curl and tuck of flips and back springs. It isn't until his lungs begin to burn that he stops on a rooftop for a moment's reprieve.

He wipes at his cheeks with the back of a slick leather glove as he watches the cars flitter by down in the streets, hears the thrumming cacophony of life echoing from down below. From this high up the warmly lit windows look like a sea of stars, and the loneliness that plagues him fades into a distant hum. The wind picks up around his head and pulls him closer towards the edge, and he learns what it feels like to breathe.

* * *

 

The first time he sees her, however, he nearly forgets.

He practically chokes, in fact. Adrien doesn't expect to see another figure bounding over buildings with ethereal ease; certainly not at half-passed midnight on a freezing cold night in November. It sets his entire being on edge.

Part of him—the part that clutches tightly to his ring with tensed shoulders and adrenaline-sweet breath—is skittish. Plagg has told him why he is who he is now, and while he has yet to see these monsters for himself, he is not entirely impatient to meet them. But as he watches her figure glide across rooftops like a fluttering bird, silhouetted with moonlight and street lamps and something he can't really name, another part of him is electrified.

So he pursues.

After a few moments and several short leaps, he is close enough to make her out—a brilliant burst of red against the shadows of the rooftops, with confidence built in the line of her spine and fire in the cut of her jaw. She stands with arms akimbo and breathes in the crisp winter air, and he finds himself matching her ins and outs.

He dares not give himself away, tucked beneath the darkness of a chimney as he watches the city lights dance in her eyes. Contentment rolls off of her in waves as she stares out at the nightlife around them, and he feels himself fall into the ebb and flow. He is being pulled out to sea, set adrift into uncharted waters, and the curious part of himself urges him to simply float. He feels like a comet being pulled in by a supernova, and the ring on his right hand almost burns him through his glove.

But before Adrien can gain the courage to speak, she steps off the edge of the building and free falls out of sight. He scrambles over in shock, disappointment raw in his throat as he watches her glide away on a thin line of rope. He wants to pursue her, wants to ask her who she is and _what_ she is and how it feels to _fly_ , but the soft chimes from his ring inform him that luck is not his ally tonight. So he contents himself with watching as she disappears from sight and pondering the curious feeling that settles between his ribs.

* * *

 

He sees her once after that, about a week later in the middle of a snow shower.

She's on top of a little _pâtisserie_ overlooking the Seine, feet dangling off the edge of the roof as she watches the lights shimmer on the water. From his vantage point a few buildings over he can just barely make out the hint of a smile on her lips as she watches a tour boat pass lazily down the waterway. The girl's feet swing back and forth idly as she hums an almost indecipherable tune, heels drumming a steady beat against the brick as she tries to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

He's not very far from her at all; in fact, it would probably only take him three or four jumps and he could land right next to her. The thought made his ears buzz pleasantly, despite how unrealistic-and probably poorly thought out-that course of action would be. She doesn't look like the type to startle easily, but she _also_ looks like the type to have a surprisingly mean left hook, and luck isn't really his thing.

Curiosity, however, is an entirely different story.

Adrien manages to land quietly enough on the neighboring building's rooftop that he doesn't draw her attention. He's careful to avoid stepping on his own tail again-an embarrassingly common occurrence in the past month since his adoption of all the leather and heroics-perching on the guard rail of a small balcony. He wraps a hand tightly around the down sprout of a gutter for anchorage, grateful that his gloves protect him from the cold metal as he leans over the edge a bit more to see.

Her back is to him, silhouetted by city lights and a gentle curtain of falling snow. Adrien is close enough that he can make out the melody she's humming: _Vive le vent_ , if he isn't mistaken. One of his favorite carols.

Adrien decides that he rather likes her voice. In fact, Adrien decides that he rather likes _her_. There's something oddly magnetic about her simple presence that has him hanging over an alleyway at quarter past eleven on a thursday night, and he desperately wishes to know her name. So he does the stupid thing and decides to approach her.

But ever true to his nature and his name, Adrien does the _other_ stupid thing of not taking the snow into account when he goes to leap across the way. He thanks every star in the sky that he had yet to let go of the gutter, because as soon as he shifts his footing he slips off of the railing entirely, dangling five stories over the dark abyss of the alleyway below.

He scrambles for purchase against the slippery pipe, but earns only the loud metallic groan of the gutter peeling away from the side of the building. He swallows a yelp of alarm as his feet search for a foothold against the stone walls, metal clanging like cymbals. He turns his head in panic towards where the girl had been sitting moments ago with vain hope that she by some miracle hadn't heard his clamoring.

Adrien's heart sinks when he sees that she has fled, the only evidence of her presence being the faint outline of where she had been sitting in the snow. He is lucky enough to spot her a few buildings over, however, and cannot help himself.

"Wait!" He calls, still struggling to inch his way over to the nearby fire escape. " _Come back!_ "

But she is long gone in a matter of moments, and he is left alone once again in the dark.

* * *

 

They don't meet again until the middle of December.

He lingers close to overhangs and chimneys, nervous to step out of this quiet limbo of anonymity. She's done an outstanding job of avoiding him; he's only caught glimpses of her in the past few weeks, and honestly he's unsure if it was actually her or his own obsession manifesting itself in delirious tricks of light. But she is very much real now, with the same sanguine spine and the same moxie-cut jaw, and the same air of peace that he's ached for since her parting.

But the air around her shifts as she turns on her heel and stares him down in the shadows, brow furrowed and shoulders squared. She clutches what looks like a yoyo in a surprisingly small hand, but the flame in her eyes leaves him no room to question her strength.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" She says, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with excitement. A switch is flipped within him then, rusted and foreign but so very _right_ , and he materializes from the dark in a fluid, cheeky saunter.

"Please forgive me," He says, surprised at how easily the words roll from his tongue, "I'm not used to having company up here, especially someone as lovely as yourself." He offers her what he hopes to be a dazzling smile–goodness knows he's had the practice. "Can you really blame a poor cat for being curious?"

She narrows her eyes suspiciously, and though she lowers her weapon, her stance is anything but relaxed. His eyes–accustomed to the dark and keen on little details–watch the tendons in her neck flex against her suit's collar as she swallows, watch how her eyes flicker across his face in search of any sort of deception. He notes how she settles her weight on the balls of her feet, ready to bolt if the situation calls for it. It's not _going_ to, he knows, but he guesses that she can't be sure.

"So _you're_ the one who's been watching me. Who are you?" She asks.

He grins so widely that he can feel his mask wrinkle, approaching her in three long, gliding strides before dropping into a sweeping bow.

"The Miraculous Chat Noir, at your service." He says, throwing her a wink from beneath his mess of bangs. It feels strangely exhilarating to say his new identity out loud to someone other than his reflection, and it makes his grin stretch just a little bit farther. "And who, may I ask, might you be?"

She looks almost startled at his showy introduction, but melts again into effortless confidence as she extends a hand to shake. "Ladybug," She offers.

"A wonderfully suiting name. Another Miraculous wielder, I presume?" Adrien says, taking her hand and placing a quick kiss to her knuckles. He is surprised when she shoves him back by the forehead with the tip of her finger. He nearly stumbles, eyes going cross.

"It seems like you presume a lot of things." Ladybug says with the faintest hint of a smirk, though he can see a flash of guarded curiosity cross her face.

Adrien rubs his forehead with a gloved hand, grinning. He's not sure where this courage is coming from, but he allows himself to simply flow. "My Lady, you wound me."

" _My Lady?_ Again with the presumptions, Monsieur Noir."

"Forgive me again. I guess I'm just a little eager at the prospect of having a partner."

Frankly, eager doesn't even _begin_ to do his excitement justice. It's all he's been able to think about-the idea of having a partner in all of this insanity is something he's been rejoicing over. Navigating life alone as a teenage civilian is difficult enough; to know that there could be someone out there who could _understand_ is practically a dream come true.

Ladybug quirks a brow, small hand on hip. Her yoyo dangles from her fingers, swaying with the subtle shift of her weight from foot to foot. His stomach knots pleasantly as the lights from the nearby Eiffel Tower catch her profile. "A partner, huh?" She says. She draws each syllable out, rolling the word around on her tongue. "And if I want to work alone?"

Adrien feels a sudden, unexpected stab of disappointment, though he tries not to let it show on his face. Instead, he covers it up with a nonchalant roll of his shoulders. His lips pull apart in an easy-looking, albeit forced, grin. "You have to know what we're going up against if you've got a Miraculous too."

" _If_." She interjects.

" _If_." Adrien agrees to humor her. At this point it's obvious that she's no…whatever it is he's supposed to be here for. Plagg had told him that _'You'll know it when you see one,'_ and while he's so far taken the small Kwami's word with a grain of salt, he at least will trust him on that. "Still, though. Terrifying monsters, crazy bad guys, some loony insect taking over minds? These masks aren't just for show, no matter how well it compliments my cheekbones."

He throws her a wink and Ladybug shoots right back with the most unimpressed look he thinks she can muster. It makes him downright giddy.

"The point is, we've got one serious fight coming up. Don't you want someone watching your back?" He implores.

The old copper shingles creak beneath her feet as she shifts from her left foot to her right. For the briefest moment Chat can see the indecision on her face: the way she nervously hooks her bottom lip beneath a tooth, the slight furrow of her brow–she's considering it, which elates him, but her hesitation starts to concern him.

Plagg had told him there were others. He never mentioned how, or who, or where, but the tiny Kwami had hinted enough that Adrien was not alone. And to think that he may have finally found someone who could _get it_ –his thumb rubs at the bottom of his ring anxiously.

Ladybug takes a step closer to him, and momentarily he's mesmerized by the wisps of cold breath that float from her lips as she speaks. But Adrien also notices the way her shoulders curl inwards, the way she almost shyly dips her chin. In a voice that lacks her initial fire, she hesitantly asks him:

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"How do you know you can't?"

She meets his eyes. Despite the shadows cast over her face, the apprehension within them shines like signal fires. She leans forward on the edge of her toes, fingers twining anxiously around the string of her yoyo. There is a very real possibility that she will run from this, from him, and for a moment Adrien feels less like a superhero and more like a boy in a mask who's just desperate for someone to stay.

Her gaze flickers down towards the ring on his hand, eyes transfixed on the soft green glow. Her hand reaches up to tug at her earlobe as they flit back to his face, studying intently. It's a look that makes him feel naked despite the mask, and he fights the urge to gnaw on his lip. But despite the intensity of her scrutinizing stare, Adrien can't help the small blossom of warmth in his cheeks as he realizes that her eyes are a rather pretty blue.

Finally, her blue eyes soften a bit around the edges, and an almost defeated grin pulls at the corners of her lips. Adrien has never been good at reading people, so he's honestly unsure of what to make of the way her shoulders slouch, or the way she suddenly pops her hip to the side.

"I guess I _don't_ know," Ladybug finally admits with a sigh. She kicks at the thin blanket of powdery snow at their feet, fingers still fiddling with her earring. But she straightens again without warning and with a sudden look of determination, and immediately it's as if the universe bends around her to make her its sun. "Alright then, Chat Noir." She says with a nod and an extended hand. "You've got yourself a partner."

Adrien is momentarily stunned, cool facade practically evaporating despite the night's chill. His heart flutters beneath his ribs like a bird in a cage, and he can't fight the smile that splits his face if he wanted to.

" _Really?_ " He breathes, eyes glittering. Ladybug stares at him expectantly before he realizes that she's still waiting for him to shake her hand, and he clears his throat awkwardly before taking it. "Well, Ladybug, here's to us-Paris' newest and best-looking crime-fighting duo."

Ladybug smirks. "Don't flatter yourself, Kitty." She says.

"Me- _owch_ , I guess I'm not the only one with claws." Adrien jokes, giving her a wink as she pulls away from his grip. He can still feel the warmth of her hand through his glove. "And just what do you expect me to do, then?"

His new partner strolls to the edge of the building and throws out her yoyo, tugging on the line before tossing him a grin that makes his heart pound.

"Keep up."

Adrien watches her leap off of the edge and he doesn't even try to hide his smile as he readies himself to follow.

" _That_ , My Lady," He says with glee, "I can do."


End file.
